After Espionage
by Nerdykay97
Summary: Who to trust, how to lie, and when to hide. This is the game that every spy plays. But when it comes to what happens after the mission, Cammie had no clue what to do. She soon learns the true test of a spy isn't a mission, its how she handles things afterwards. Cammie has to learn how to play the game with a whole new set of rules. *Zammie*
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I hope you all enjoy this story. I am very excited for it, and very happy with how this first chapter turned out! Reviews welcome! ENJOY!**

Chapter 1

Long ago I learned that, mostly, being a spy is boring. Very boring. Nobody _wants_ to spend several hours staring at a bank in Rome, constantly memorizing the patterns of camera sweeps and guard changes (trust me I know), but we do anyway. We do it because we learn things, even if it takes all day and a really odd tan line to find them out.

One thing I didn't learn at Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women that being a spy is also very lonely. More specifically, being a pavement artist is.

I spent my childhood and every year as a Gallagher Girl thinking that I would be going on missions with the best spies in the world, working in far off places, and staying in constant contact with the people I cared about most. I even hoped that several of them would be in the constantly changing circle of people that I was working with.

Little did I know, when I got to be an actual spy, I would never talk to them. Or more accurately I couldn't talk to them.

The last time I searched (or hacked…I guess) the CIA data base Bex was on a mission. She was in Italy on "special assignment". She was there for a month, and her target was Grant. Not because he was suddenly a threat or a traitor. She was having the time of her life and so was he, doing what spies always did. I'm sure it was great, mostly because they were also on their honeymoon. I didn't even get an invite to the wedding.

Liz, you ask. Where is Liz? Lizzie is working. I think she was developing a system to adjust memories on the spot, just like you see on TV (but less flashy). Macey had just gotten back from Hong Kong and was visiting her parents. Tina was in New York, and Josh was happily married.

That was two years ago, since then I continued watching. I waited and made notes. I followed my target everywhere. I worked in the same building as him, and had an apartment in the same building. I took the same bus and walked on the same streets. He was a computer software engineer for a big company. I wore a wig and was the ditzy secretary on the third floor. Everyone knew me as Rachel Matthews. No one would have guessed that I would also respond to the Chameleon.

* * *

One Tuesday morning I was walking to work, saying approximately thirty-five feet behind my target, or charge (I'd been watching him for so long, it felt more like babysitting). My skirt had ridden up in the back. I stopped to smooth it, watching him stop at a cross walk in one second and scanning for threats in another. I was just turning to leave when I noticed a man, tall but not too tall, and dressed like any other person heading to work in the sprawling streets of Las Angles. The reason I noticed him was more than because I noticed everything, but because he always turned left on the last street and hadn't today. He also seemed to have stopped when I had.

I went on with my day, watching closely for any other oddities. Anything unfamiliar in the patterns of people's lives. Oddities are suspicious, and suspicions are always dangerous.

At lunch I spotted the man again. He was kind of skinny, and I could see the way he walked, a gait that I'd only ever seen on operatives, one of a forced limp just slightly on his right knee. He must be a spy. The only question was if he was friendly or not. Could he be MI6 or CIA? Could he be a Circle wannabe? Who was he? As it turns out, I didn't have to wait long to find out.

* * *

I had just walked to a seat in the café near my office. The man walked through the door, and confidently strutted toward the counter. He seemed just like an important CEO until he stumbled and dropped his wallet next to my table. I knew I shouldn't have done it. I should have repressed the instinct to reach down and grab the wallet. I was being sloppy, I had put myself at risk just to seem normal. For all I knew, the man could have jumped me when my head was down, and then I would have only had a 70% chance of winning the fight (but it increases to 85% if he would have been balanced on his heels instead of toes).

When I gave him his wallet, his fingers lingered on my hand. "Stay calm," I thought. I took a deep breath and quipped in high pitched and very accented English, "Here's your wallet, sir! Have a good day."

He paused. Gruffly, he said, "You look familiar, do I know you?"

Much too quickly I answered, "Umm, no. I don't know you sir."

"Are you sure?" he smiled, one cocky smirk. "Because I swear I have seen you before."

I shook my head as he continued, "I guess you just look like the beautiful," he laughed, "the beautiful spy in that new movie."

"Well, see you around Ms. Matthews" He flashed that smile one more time before leaving.

"He never ordered anything," I thought. "He never ordered and he knew my name, or my alias at least." Then I realized I knew that laugh. One I hadn't heard for five years. The man was…Zach.

* * *

I quickly left the café as quickly as I could. I had to follow Zach. I had to find out what in the hell he was doing here. I had to find out how he found me when I was on a highly classified assignment. And, mostly, I couldn't get over the fact the Zach. Was. Here.

He was here, and he was good. He flipped corners and doubled back. Then he suddenly turned into a red brick building, and apartment complex, with a palm tree out front and a sign hanging down from the front. I followed several paces behind him. Zach went up two staircases, and around four corners (left, right, left, and left). I passed sixteen doors, and seven of which needed painting. I reached him just as he was unlocking the door.

"You dropped this!" I chirped, one thing I never thought would happen in my life.

"Oh, really? Why thank you. Why don't you come in," he said.

"Oh, um, sure." I stammered. As I walked into the tiny apartment I counted four windows, one leading to a fire escape. I was sure I could get out if things went wrong. I did master a disabling maneuver last year that would give me at least a two minute head start.

I heard the door shut softly. Zach stepped up behind me and, as I turned around, slid my wig off my head.

"What's your prob…" I didn't get to finish because Zach's lips pressed against mine. His arm pulled me close. "Cammie," he whispered.

I pulled away. "How did you find me."

Just like he did when we were sophomores, he flashed a cocky smirk and said, "Spy."

"What are you doing here? How did you find me? How did you know it was me?"

Zach shook his head. "The better question is what are _you_ doing here. Why did you run Gallagher Girl? Why again, why then?"

What is he talking about? I've been here for years, on assignment. Every week I send progress reports back to Headquarters, and they respond with the same thing _Stay on assignment_.

"Zach, I've been on a mission, you know that."

"No, Cammie, I don't."

I was confused. His words didn't make sense. They couldn't make sense. I had been following perfect protocol since I had graduated nine years ago.

"What do you mean?" I breathed, almost too frightened to hear the answer.

"You missed a check in, the one in Ulaanbaatar. The CIA thought it was nothing, but you never responded. And we tried to contact you, everyone did. You were nowhere to be found."

I remember that check in. I was late, but just a few hours, and when I had I was given instructions on my new assignment. The assignment I was currently on. "That's impossible, Zach. I checked in and was given this assignment. I've been here ever since. Sending constant status reports."

I could finally see the wear on his body. The hunched shoulders, and the tired eyes, the very real limp on his leg, show of a mistake on the job. Just like it was the summer before senior year, but much, much worse. "For the last four and a half years I've been on assignment looking for you. Cam, you have been considered MIA for the last four and a half years."

No wonder I hadn't heard anything. Never send a Christmas card, or an invite to the wedding of my best friend. "What happened, since I left."

"So much has changed. We've needed you."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Only about forty percent of missions are successes, the rest…"

"We lose someone." I said, with the gravity of the situation finally settling in.

Zach just nodded his head.

I feel like crying when I ask, "Liz? Macey?" I pause, "Bex?"

"They're fine, mostly. Liz and Jonas are scared and constantly protected, especially after the threats a few months ago." He heard me try to interrupt, but continued before I could. "Bex…" He stops, whether it's to gather his thoughts or drive me crazy, I'm not sure.

"Bex isn't in the field anymore."

I gasped, involuntarily. "That can't be! You have to be lying!"

"I'm not Cammie! You don't understand! People were going missing! All the time! As soon as she found out about little Ellie, she decided to take a desk job." Zach sighed.

"Who's Ellie?"

"Grant and Bex's daughter. Cammie. Her daughter." He put emphasis on every syllable in the word _daughter_.

I started hyperventilating. "Bex has a daughter," I thought. "WHAT DID I MISS!" I panicked

"I have to go back, now. What's the first plane to DC?" Then I realized something. "What about Macey?"

Zach bowed his head as he said, "She missed a meeting with an asset two days ago. She missed a meeting with me."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: There aren't going to be many more authors' notes on this story. Unlike some of my others, it doesn't need it. If you feel the absolute need to have some of my thoughts, please message me. If not, just review. I really appreciate when you do. It mostly helps me discover some things that need to be discussed by the characters. And it makes me happy. ****. Oh, and I, of course, don't own the characters at all, and never will. ****Keep that in mind. ****One more notice, I will be changing the cover photo with the next few up dates, would yo wonderful readers give me feed back on ones you like? And names for the story as well? Now, to the story! Please review and ENJOY!**

Chapter 2

When I'm out in the field, very few things matter to me. Those few things boil down to A) My Target B) My Secrets and C) My Safety. In that order, nothing is worse that a failed mission and secrets are the difference between life and death. My safety isn't as important, especially since there are always more Gallagher Girls and I didn't matter in the broad scheme of things.

I, as an agent, was expendable. Yes, my skills were great, but someone else could master them. My secrets were well kept, but someone in the business still always had access to them. Because of this, it took all I could muster to find a reason to get on the plane.

Yes, I had a seat. Yes, I was with Zach. But I didn't matter. I wasn't important. The only thing that forced me to was my family. I thought of my mom, and Mr. Solomon. Aunt Abby. Bex, Liz, and Macey. Zach. The only reason I stepped on that plane is the fact that I couldn't leave them not knowing. I couldn't leave them with nothing.

I was going home. After four years away, I was going home. For the last two I wasn't even able to look in at my friends' records with the CIA. I couldn't get past the new security system. Where was Liz when you needed her? (Although I highly suspect that she's the reason I could no longer get in.)

My foot bounced. My fingers rapped out an impatient rhythm. My back was tense and my shoulders were set up to my ears. As I (tried) to relax, the flight attendant came by. She looked at me as smiled. "Don't worry hun'. We'll be in DC soon 'nuff. Nothin' to be 'fraid of," she muttered in a sugary sweet southern accent. I could feel Zach smiling next to me. That annoying smirk grew as I continued my bouncing legs and my tapping fingers.

Lightly, his fingers caressed my face. I froze at the contact, but that didn't stop him from turning my head and pressing his forehead against mine. "It's okay, Gallagher Girl." His lips just brushed the tip of my nose when I felt the plane jerk. Then gain speed and lift into the air.

"It's not going to be okay, Zach." I whispered frantically. "When is the life of a," my voice dropped, "spy EVER okay?"

"It is now," he said, matter-of-factly. "You're going home."

I just rolled my eyes and turned to the window. I was determined not to look back until we landed in DC, sure that he might pick up on my panic.

"Did he not understand that spies don't just come back from being MIA?" I thought. "I'm the only one in the last fifteen years who had. I'm the only one. And now, I guess, I've done it twice."

But this time didn't count. I didn't run. There wasn't a note left in any hall, and there wasn't any capturing. I was on assignment, and something went wrong. Something out of my control.

I remember the last time I had seen Zack before today (or yesterday I guess, it was two in the morning). He was leaving, just a routine mission. Or that's what they told me, that's what he told me. He would be gone for a while though, six months at the most.

Before he left we were, well we were something. Or we were the nothing that we told everyone else and they refused to believe. I'm not really sure what we were, but that six months seemed like a long time to wait to find out.

Bex and Liz had constantly hounded me for updates. Sending messages in dead drops and encrypted codes, and through email. All the emails they sent. I always told them the same thing, we had talked and now he was on a mission, or I was, and I didn't know when I'd see him again.

They always wanted the story from the top. After a while, it seemed like a repetitive bedtime story read to a young child.

"_It started in DC_," I'd say, "_He was leaving and he kissed me goodbye ON THE CHEEK._" I'd always add before they could interrupt. "_Then came Hong Kong. We had to work together to train a mutual asset for two completely unrelated missions. After that was London. He had informed me to meet him for dinner. There wasn't a name on the message, just his style. So, I went. And it was great. He smiled, I smiled, we both laughed. Then when dessert came, I turned for a second, and he was gone. At least he had prepaid. Brisbane was a joint mission, a successful one too. He still called me Gallagher Girl and I still rolled my eyes. It ended with a plane ride, his arm wrapped around my shoulder and my head on his, and it had nothing to do with our legends. Paris wasn't as important, he wasn't actually there. It was just a note, coded of course. New York was something though. He kidnapped me and took me to the Statue of Liberty. There was a secret picnick, and there was a kiss._" I only ever got that far without being interupped. And that was only because Bex always had to add that she was the one who set me up to be kidnapped…while we were working! Then I'd sigh and continue, "_The next time I saw him was at Christmas. I was with my mother and he dropped by. "To wish his headmistress a Merry Christmas." Even though he was graduated, just like the rest of us. My mom smiled, and motioned for us to talk on the porch. And we did. When he had to leave I whispered, "I'm glad I got to see you." And he was gone. Cairo,_" I had always paused, waiting for the suspense to peak. "_Was the last time I saw him._"

At the end of my tale Liz would sigh, always expecting for information than there was to have. Bex would just look at me and search my face, trying to see if I wasn't telling the whole truth. But I was, I always was.

Every piece of the story had stacked on top of each other, like blocks or the stones in a wall. There was always more. Yet, for the last four and a half years there wasn't more. How couldn't be? "Well," I thought, "Yesterday added a new piece of the puzzle. I wonder what the girls will think of this one…"

The next thing I knew I was being tapped, on the shoulder. And it was annoying. I just brushed the hand away and went back to my thoughts. That was until a pair of slightly chapped lips pressed against mine.

I jolted up. "What was that for?"

Looking innocent, Zach said, "We're here, and you were asleep." He shrugged.

With a glare I replied, "I was not asleep!"

"Fine. Whatever Gallagher Girl. We have to go."

I slowly stood up. My arms stretched behind me and my knees locked and buckled in the same movement. As I reached the isle, I stumbled. As I tumbled forward, a steady hand grabbed me and pulled me forward. "Thanks," I mumbled.

Zach reaches up and hands me my bag. I can feel the red backpack against my side. The hard edges of my notebooks dig into my ribs. They're heavy, but I had to have them. They were my notes, the reason I was gone. I had to have them, not matter how many times Zach told me I wasn't in trouble. That they didn't think… that they didn't think I was a double agent.

Let me tell you, once I stepped off that plane it only took me 26.9 seconds to realize Zach was wrong. And only 9 more to estimate just how wrong he was.

* * *

The plain room I was sitting in was pure white. It almost reminded me of the testing rooms I was herded into when I was little. A room that I was forced to sit and test in for hours on end. But it wasn't. It was the room that I had been in for two hours.

On the walk here I passed two doors. One read "Authorized, stay out." I knew I wasn't going there. The other said "Experimental Lab." What I would give to go behind that door. That, unfortunately, wasn't the case.

Before I was pushed into this room, I had to fourteen different tests to check my identity. I passed them all, I think.

Once I was here, I sat and I waited. And the clock ticked, and the walls seemed to close in, then out again. Finally, 135 minutes later, a woman walked in. She was tall and athletic. Her dark brown hair was pulled back, in a French braid, to keep it out of her face. Her dark eyes shifted toward me, and she sat down. She didn't even give a slight impression that she knew me, even though she definitely did.

"Hello, Ms. Morgan. I'm Agent Anderson. Why don't you tell me about L.A." Her accent was flawless, just like it should be. She had spent way to long practicing to not have it perfect. I should know.

"Fine, Agent Anderson. But I need you to answer one question for me first." I commented, slyly trying to have her slip up. She just looked at her notes and slightly nodded in my direction.

"Well, I'm wondering if you still go by Bex?"

She just kept shuffling through her papers. "Yes, Ms. Morgan. I do go by "Bex" but, not right now."

So I just looked her in the eyes and told her everything, starting in Mongolia and ending with the plane ride here.

She just stopped and looked at me. "Well Ms. Morgan. You have to be detained. You do know that, right?"

I nodded. "This way," Bex ordered. We started out into the hall. She led me down several hallways. When we reached a dead end, she turned on me. My best friend looked at me, like she didn't know what to do with me. To be honest, I'm pretty sure no one, not even myself, actually knew what to do with me.

Her hand flicked under her eyes. Bex threw her arms around me, tears streaming down her face. She finally let herself fall out of the act. She slipped. Her shoulders slumped and the bags under her eyes let on how fatigued she was. She even fell suddenly into her natural accent. "I have so much to tell you, Cammie, you missed so much."

I nodded my head as she held up her hand. The hand that I knew held something she was both excited and slightly ashamed of. Slid on to the last finger of her left hand was a ring. It wasn't super extravagant, just a simple gold band with five stones inlaid in the top. They alternated black and ivory, sparkling slightly in the florescent light.

"I know." I said, a small smile creeping onto my face.

Bex glared at me and slid into her hip. She wanted this to be a much more charged moment, she wanted a _Bex_ moment. And she was pissed that she didn't get one.

"Oh really, miss smarty pants!" She rushed.

I could tell it was coming. It was so natural, so expected. You honestly can't live with Rebecca Baxter, err, Anderson, for as many as I had without knowing her. My head sunk to the level of Bex's waist as her foot looped over the spot where my head had been. "At least this time you seem to have kept your reflexes and stamina. Now I don't have to save your sorry ass when you end up sleepwalking."

"I reflexively thought about the hardest year of my life, the one where my whole world turned upside down, the one where I felt like I lost more than my memory, more than my sanity. It felt like I lost everything I cared about. I still hate the Circle for all they've done to me, my sisterhood, to my family.

"Come on, I have something to show you." Bex said. "We'll someone," she muttered as she tugged my wrist and pulled me down a series of hallways and corridors.

"Grant," I answered, rolling my eyes as she continued to drag me along the linoleum floors.

"Well, yes, but that's not all." I could see the excitement building in her until she could burst. But it wasn't a firework, light and ready to fly. No, she was more like TNT or C4, so much potential and just waiting to ignite.

"Ellie," I breathed. My words were so quiet I was almost sure she hadn't heard me. Yet, she still did. She just was so familiar with this hall she had to wait. She walked past a camera, into a hall. I knew she had memorized the guard patterns and new the patterns of surveillance. She just had to wait. When the coast was clear she turned on me.

Her heels clicked together and her hand hit her hip. I knew the expression better than I knew most of mine. Bex was angry.

"What did he tell you?" she hissed. "What else do you know!"

I shrugged, not wanting to have Zach be the target of her fury, but definitely not wanting to receive her wrath either.

"Cameron Ann Morgan! What did Zach tell you?!"

She knew she had dealt a low blow, using my full name. I relented. "Nothing, really. Just that you have a daughter." I shrugged.

"Well, that okay. I guess." (I still wasn't sure, she still looked like she might murder Zach the next time she sees him)

Bex's hand pressed against a door. When it opened, I saw a living room with a blue couch. Two picture frames, one of a man and a woman kissing in wedding attire and the other of the same two people holding a baby. I could also see a kitchen, but it seemed mostly unused and under decorated. The only things on the walls in there were two flags, one British and the other American, fighting for wall space.

"Grant!" she called. "I'm back."

My best friend turned to me and smiled, "I guess it's time for you to finally meet your goddaughter."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I promise I don't bite. You can all send in wonderful reviews, I would not complain…**

**Enjoy the story!**

Chapter 3

**The Pros and Cons of Being Detained after You Go MIA for Four and a Half Years: **(a list by Agent Cameron Ann Morgan)

**Pro**- You get to sleep, a lot. And every woman needs sleep.

**Con**- While you get to sleep, the beds are NOT comfortable. Like sleeping on a bed of gravel not comfortable. But it could be worse.

**Pro**- Thinking, lots of thinking.

**Con**- You almost never get access to the wardrobe that took you two years undercover to acquire.

**Con**- Two words: The. Food.

**Pro**- When you have clearance like I do, you still get to see the people you love.

**Con**- They're usually acting really weird around you

The last week had been crazy and completely boring all at the same time. I sat in a room with tan walls and a grey comforter. I stared at the blank walls, and wrote stories in Portuguese. I did push up, sit ups, and practiced P&E maneuvers. All I did was eat and sleep and think. I did a lot of thinking. Yet, mostly, I wait.

Occasionally I had visitors. On the second day in this room, I saw Bex again. She came into the room with her daughter. Ellie was asleep in the carrier with a sky blue lining. I gave Bex a one armed hug while I picked up and cradled my goddaughter. She was just as cute as when I had seen her two days prior.

She was asleep. Just like last time. Not that I was surprised, Bex slept it better than any other person on the planet. Ellie looked just like her mom, though she was dressed in a pink skirt and a white shirt (an outfit that I'm positive Liz or Macey bought for her). Dark curly hair brushed her forehead and her long eyelashes framed her shut eyes. Even asleep she smiled, just a slight one that made her seem excited and up to something. She had on a silver charm bracelet with three tiny letters; E, C, and A. I had glanced up at Bex, the question just forming on my lips. But I didn't give Bex a chance to answer my unasked question.

As I turned the silver charms over I saw the engravings in the back. "Ella Cameron Anderson," I breathed. Bex looked at me and just smiled.

I just realized that I had completely tuned Bex out for the last few minutes. She was going on about how she wanted me to still be home, but I wasn't and how this was the next option. She caught herself, going on about how it was still what she would have done if I _was_ home at the time. On and on, she went.

I just held Ellie and thought. I thought about all I had missed and all I was still trying to catch up on. I thought about all the people I had probably upset with my absences. "There has to be a reason no one else is here to see me," I thought, almost scornfully. Then I felt bad…and sad. But mostly I felt guilty. Guilty for all the things I had ever done to them.

I was a terrible person.

More terrible than the time I had a relationship with Josh. Or stolen from Macey. Or, even all the times I spied on my mom.

I could hardly stand myself.

After a minute of stewing in anger, Bex grabbed my attention back. She had said something about Macey stepping in as the maid of honor at her wedding, since I was unavailable. At the mention of our friend I froze. I had completely forgotten about her. I hadn't once thought about the fact that she was missing. I was getting more despicable by the minute.

"Where is Macey? Zach said…Zach said she was…" I gulped. "He said she missed a check in with an asset."

"She's fine!" Bex answered, a little too quickly. "She's back, debriefing yesterday and filling out a report today," She finished more evenly.

Bex was lying to me. I couldn't believe it. We don't lie (unless, you know, when being a spy). Gallagher Girls (even the graduated kind) don't lie to each other. You never lie to a sister. That's the beauty of the sisterhood.

She quickly changed the subject, going back to the antics of her honeymoon. When she was finished I said, "Wow, that sound great!" Even though I hadn't heard 95% of what she said.

There was long, stifling pause. Bex finally looked at me and whispered, "I've got to go. Work and…stuff. But," she paused, "Ellie is yours to keep for the afternoon." She forced the smile, and the laugh that followed, acting as though that was the best thing in the world. Let me tell you, after the week I had had, I really wanted it to be.

She got up to leave, but before she could, the door pushed open.

"Squirt, back from the dead again are we?"

"Hey Aunt Abby." I then looked at the door. Standing there was a woman who looked like my aunt, but yet, it couldn't be my aunt! She was wearing a dress, first of all. Then there was the fact that she wasn't wearing her badge or carrying any of her credentials. Finally there was the round belly that disrupted the ruffle of her sundress. My aunt, the free and rule optional agent, was pregnant.

The only thing that really seemed familiar was her hand. It was laced through Mr. Solomon's. I even spotted the familiar ring (That I had helped pick out, might I add) on her left hand. I was really glad she decided to say yes.

Then I noticed the happiness of the man who was my teacher. He was my mentor, my teacher, my dad's best friend, the person I ultimately looked up to, and right them he was smiling at me. He sat down next to me and just gave me an awkward one armed hug. I would have hugged him back, but the baby still cradled in my arms made that difficult.

Bex walked up to my aunt and gave her a hug, slightly toughing her stomach. "Oh, Abby, how are you feeling?"

Abby sighed, "They've been kicking, a lot, don't they realize it's not time for P&E yet?"

My head snaps up from Ellie's sleeping face. "They?" I ask.

Joe's the one who answers, "Yes, they. Matthew and Ann."

Wow. Joe and Abby are naming their kids after my dad and …me.

"It would have been Cameron, but _someone_ already took that name." Abby elbowed Bex in the ribs.

I jumped up and gave Abby a hug. I force a smile. I was kind of still in shock that so many people wanted to name their kids after me. Let's be honest, it's kind of weird.

I looked at the modest diamond on her hand, I wanted to hear how it went. I wanted to be debriefed on the mission. My masterpiece. I couldn't wait to hear about it, especially since I couldn't be there to see it happen. "The fourth of July?" I sent a sideways glance to Mr. Solomon.

Abby suddenly seemed confused. "No," she said. "He didn't propose until the end of August. At the memorial for Agent Ferra."

Now it was my turn to be confused. "Joe," I said. "You told me the fourth, the plan always was the fourth."

One of the best spies in the world just shook his head. He seemed almost pained when he said, "No, the plan wasn't for me to propose."

"Mr. Solomon, what are you talking about?" I was still fighting to make sense of what they were saying.

"You don't get it, do you? Bex said, in her typical bossy fashion. "Mr. Solomon and Abby were never getting engaged on the fourth of July," Bex sighed.

My eyes had widened. I wasn't sure why exactly, but I knew that they had to be lying. They had to be lying right now, because there was no way they were keeping things from me four years ago. I was completely surprised and taken off guard. Bex saw me freeze, completely taken off guard. She quickly jumped in, filling the last couple holes in my logic, the last piece of information I didn't, couldn't, have known. "Cammie, it wasn't Mr. Solomon, because the plan… the plan was for Zach to."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Zach. His name was four simple letters. Yet, then more than ever, the person they describe confused me. He was the person who found me. The one who brought me back to the world. He kept me from going crazy even when I was a little crazy. He held me. He kissed me. He even dipped me in front of everyone (long story). His cocky smile and teasing voice was instantaneously recognizable. He always helped me before I even knew I needed it.

Even after all that, even after all that that man had done. From every mission and every kiss he left me more lost than I was before. The mysterious man, the one I thought I knew. He brought me back from the land of the missing, brought me back to the world I missed; and, yet, I felt even farther away than I did when I was gone.

* * *

In the next two weeks I hadn't seen Zach once, although I swear I've seen everyone else. The day after Joe and Abby came by, I saw Macey. Her hair was longer than I had ever seen it, sitting half way down her back. She was bruised and battered; a black eye snaked up her jaw line and around one of her bright blue eyes. Her lips were pursed and her hip cocked. Macey McHenry looked angry. But more importantly, she looked alive.

When she walked into my room, or more accurately my confinement, I threw my arms around her.

"Would you let go of me?" she sniped. I did, only because I didn't want to be at the bad end of an argument with this girl, she hit pretty hard. I wasn't expecting it when Macey punched me in the kidney. "Don't do that, Cam!"

"Do what?" I asked as I struggled to breathe.

"Run. Leave. Disappear. Take your pick."

I sighed. I was about to start on my story again, but I still couldn't breathe.

"Tell me everything," she commanded.

So I did. I told her everything. The story was an old friend to me now. The last four and a half years had been retold at least a dozen times, even if they were only to myself.

Macey nodded throughout the story, as if she suspected everything I had told her. She only stopped me once to tell me a funny story from Bex's wedding about her, another agent from the CIA, and a _really_ creative use of a bobby pin.

We sat in silence for a while, both of us trying to decide if it was safe to talk again. Finally I broke. I whispered, "Mace, I know," referencing the proposal I learned about the day before.

"Know what?" Her voice says she's confused but I know better. Her eyes shift slightly, a tell that couldn't possibly be noticed by anyone who hadn't known her for as long as I had. The only thing I didn't know was what she was lying about. Did she know what I was talking about? Or was it something else that she thought I knew?

"I know about the ring. I know about the plan on the fourth."

Macey was actually confused. She was shocked by me words, I could tell. "What are you talking about?"

I took a deep breath and started, "Bex told me. She, Joe, and Zach had planned it. On the Fourth of July, the one just after I went missing. Zach was…" I trailed off. My voice just above a whisper, I said, "He was going to propose."

It takes a lot to make a spy stunned. This was one thing that stunned Macey McHenry.

"Ohhh," she faltered, lost for words.

I really wanted to disappear, something that was impossible in this room. I wanted to be a chameleon, more then than ever before. I pressed my head into my hands. "What am I going to do?" I wondered.

For the first time (and probably last), my favorite boy-expert said, "I really don't know."

After a long silence she grabbed my hand and stood up from the bed. "That's it," she said.

My heels pressed into the ground, "What?" I protested.

"Stop mopping, start moving the hell on. I did not spend the last forever of my life looking for you to mop around."

Then she walked out the door. No goodbye, no good luck, not even a smile. Geez, thanks Mace.

* * *

It was only two more days before I was called into the debriefing room again. A manila folder slid across the table. In it was a picture, a plane ticket, and two hastily scribbled words.

I looked up at the agents that stared at me. Both just stare back at me, their eyes flashing behind their ridicules shades.

I'm not really sure when nor why that started. Agents don't were sunglasses like they make us cool. Or like they make us mysterious. The point is to _blend in _not draw as much attention to ourselves as possible. God.

"Why me." I cleared my throat, "The CIA has plenty of agents to take this op."

The shorter agent, the one on the left spoke. Her voice was calm and controlled. "This requires a special skill set that makes you, Agent Morgan, uniquely qualified." So they needed a pavement artist, and a good one to. Don't get me wrong, there are other pavement artist in the CIA. Even more if you count the ones that act dually as CIA/MI6 agents. But I was chosen. And there was no way I was turning it down.

When I grabbed the folder, turning to leave, I scrapped the metal chair noisily on the tiles. Nether agent flinched. The woman, she especially stood too still. No one should go ten minutes without shifting her weight, especially in heels like that. When I walked past her she moved, just a fraction of an inch. The woman smiled with the corner of her mouth and said, "It's good to see you again Cam. The Chameleon is back. Finally." She rolled her brown eyes.

It took me a second to recognize her. The brown hair, twisted back from the face. The cock of her hip. The way she rolled her eyes. And the posture, I recognized it to well. "Thanks Eva," I whispered.

It was good to see a sister. Someone who would always know my secrets, one who knows what I'm capable of.

I push against the heavy black door, hoping to leave and catch a plane. Eva grins. "Oh and Cammie, the lab is expecting you," she added, almost as an afterthought.

* * *

The lab. I can't believe Eva would actually think I'd forget! How could I, especially with Mr. Solomon's training. Not to mention, the lab was my first stop anyway.

My finger pressed lightly against the pad. It turned green, clearing me for access. I stepped through the heavy door. And when I say heavy, I do mean the weight, but I'm also referring to the fact that the door could be hit with a missile and not have a scratch…hell it could be hit with a hydrogen bomb and still be standing.

The room on the other side of the door was white, like everything else in this building. There was a stainless steel table against one wall and a door against the other. I counted four cameras and nine tiles in the floor with a remote control collapse button. Just so that a person could be stopped or stalled if something happened. The red chair on the left had a hidden DNA scanner, one that I helped create my senior year. It was smaller than a nickel and would extract a small snippet of hair. The best part was you couldn't feel it when you leaned against the chair.

On the wall by the door was a black rectangle. It was something I was extremely familiar with. Something that I saw all the time, most people did, at apartment complexes. It too had a fingerprint scanner inlaid in the call button, and (I'm sure) a voice recognition program in the mic.

I pressed the button and a distracted voice answered, "What do you need?" The soft voice seemed almost annoyed with the disruption. I cleared my throat slightly, hoping to god that she remembered me (and wasn't to pissed at me either).

"Yes, sorry. I need to speak with Dr. Sutton. I was told she would be expecting me," I said with as much confidence I could muster.

The other end of the line was quiet for about 30 seconds (okay 33.9, but who's counting?) and suddenly I could hear the unmistakable sound of a pen falling, glass breaking, and a southern voice squeaking, "Oopsie Daisy!" I thought of all the times I had heard that clumsy cry; it made me smile.

I turned away from the door, away from the impending explosion. Liz tends to do that if you keep her waiting for too long. And since four and a half minutes can be too long for her to wait, I only shutter at the effect of four and a half _years_ of waiting will do to her.

I waited, and waited, but it never came. The screeches were non-existent, in fact the room was silent. Almost too silent. So quiet that I almost turned around to check and make sure Liz was coming. Let's just say I never got the chance. And I never did because two arms soon had my arms pinned down to my sides.

"Its good to see you Cam." The words are steady, not a hint of excitement or anger lace through her voice.

My mouth opens to ask her a question, but she cuts me off. "Not now," she whispers. She pushes a black backpack into my hand and a silver envelope. Then, not two minutes after I see the smartest, best scientist in the world for the first time in years, she leaves without another word.

With the flip of my hair (a trick Macey taught me junior year) I walked out the door and toward the outside and the awaiting cab.


End file.
